Run Like Hell
by Kioji
Summary: Not a day went by that Keiko didn't wonder when Yusuke was coming back. Of course, she learned not to expect much. Weeks, months, years passed by, she settled for a desk job and a lonely apartment. That is, until she took a harmless train trip to a boring business seminar-but nothing is ever harmless or boring with Yoko Kurama, she soon learned. A shameless Keiko/ Kurama story.
1. Chapter 1

_No ownership of Yu Yu Hakusho or characters within. I make no profit except the joy writing brings me._

_Kioji_

* * *

Part ONE

Dedicated to Steffie

* * *

"She's a big girl. I am positive Keiko can handle herself."

Wincing, Kurama pulled his head away from the receiver to save his sensitive ears from the violent outbursts on the other end of the line, regretting picking up the phone at all. And he thought Yusuke called for a friendly chat.

Sighing, Kurama half-listened to the man's urgent pleading, almost amused by the complete lack of confidence Yusuke had in his own wife. As it was, he felt a bit sorry for them both.

"Yusuke," he cut in, growing tired, "may I remind you I, too, have many things—"

He stopped, interrupted by a snide remark on Yusuke's end. Kurama regretted pausing as Yusuke bombarded him with a conflicting mixture of threats and bribes, wondering if he had any chance winning this argument at all.

Yusuke blurted something that both shocked and disappointed Kurama, making him wonder about the relationship between the two. Certainly, referring to escorting one's wife as _babysitting_ signified some dysfunction…

Finally, he ceded, figuring a compromise would be in order—and how bad could a jaunt off the main island be? Keiko was a pleasant enough person—intelligent, good natured, resilient.. His mother _was_ always hounding him about never taking any vacations.

After placing the phone back in its holster, he rubbed his eyes and groaned.

The trip would have to be off the record. His mother was also growing insistent about getting a girlfriend.

* * *

Oven off—check.

Duffle bag—check.

Wallet, keys, money…

Check.

Train and bus tickets—

Biting down another panic attack, Keiko searched herself frantically before sighting the folded envelope by the coffee machine, pinned up next to a calendar with the day's date circled and re-circled in purple pen. Sighing, she snagged it off the cork board before shouldering her purse and bag, tingles of anxiety churning her breakfast.

If she used the stairs instead of the elevator, ran instead of waiting for a cab—she might make it to the station in time to be five minutes late. Oh, hopefully Kurama won't leave without her… she knew the train wouldn't be as forgiving.

Dancing in place, Keiko flipped the kitchen light off and pranced out the door, tripping down the hallway for a few seconds before turning back to properly close and lock up. It wouldn't be fitting to worry Yusuke about another break-in…not when he let her go all the way to Sapporo, on a _train_, nonetheless.

She breezed past the elevator and entered the stair shaft, murmuring to herself what good look she had in landing a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor under such short notice. And so close to work! Her mother lamented about the loss of the beautiful townhouse Yusuke procured for the two of them, insisting Keiko and Yusuke to take up her offer to live in the spare bedroom until proper arrangements were made, but she stoutly refused. After finally moving out, not even a freak fire could shake her determination to stay independent. Besides, it would be a _true_ disaster if her parents found out she and Yusuke hadn't actually gotten married yet.

Sighing, she jumped the last three steps and pushed the door open, breaking out into a practiced sprint across the empty lobby toward the front doors.

* * *

"Are you sure? I mean, I can stand for a little bit—I'm just full of energy—"

"Keiko, I assure you I am fine."

"Oh, well, alright…," she mumbled, twirling her purse strap idly around her wrist to dispel her guilt. It was going on two hours that Kurama selflessly gave up the last seat on the train to stand in the isle—not once complaining. Keiko couldn't say the same of herself—after running the entire way in heels and then _waiting_ for three hours for a replacement train (can you _really_ replace those?) her back, calves, and thighs burned from overexertion. She was beginning to figure out why Yusuke thought so much of him.

She let out a nervous laugh.

"I guess all that rushing I did was for nothing, eh? It's so hard to believe that our train broke down before we even got on it…"

"All the better. We would be stranded had it malfunctioned afterward. This way we are only delayed by a few hours," he replied, smiling calmly. A thought seemed to occur to him.

"Why is it you took the train instead of flying? I believe the rates are better, and requires far less traveling time," Kurama asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Well, I've always wanted to take a train through the country—and how often do you get to see the Seikan Tunnel?"

"To be fair, Keiko, you won't see much once we're under water…"

"And for some reason, Yusuke doesn't like the idea of me flying. I tried to tell him it would be safer than anything else, but I don't think he's ever actually been on a plane…"

"Is that so?"

* * *

Hours bled by unnoticed, the sun inching upward as the train barreled closer to its destination. Kurama eventually conceded to Keiko, sharing half of the seat when she threatened to join him standing up if he didn't.

"And since then, you've had to work to support yourself?"

"Yeah—but it's not like I don't want to—I mean," Keiko bit her lip, trying to explain her situation without incriminating Yusuke.

"He's got his work where he's at, right? That's not something…I can really be involved with," she finally whispered, being as discrete about her relationship to the supernatural as possible. Her companion nodded gravely.

"Yusuke is a fortunate man," he stated, amused when she averted her gaze with a burning blush, "but I wish I could say the same for you."

Keiko visibly jumped, nearly jostling Kurama out into the isle.

"Oh, no! I'm—I'm very—I mean, Yusuke is—"

"Calm yourself, I meant nothing by it," he smoothly replied, waving a disinterested hand in the air. Keiko returned his easy smile, though not as sincere.

"However, it must be taxing, to quit college in order to help support the both of you…"

Her grin cracking, Keiko blinked back a sudden surge of emotion to stare out the window. It was still a rather sore subject, her sudden discontinuation of what was going to be a stunning college career. Most people naturally assumed it was because of her choice to marry Yusuke, to ready a home for children, to assign herself to her natural role. Of course, not many people knew the truth—that she in fact had _not_ gotten married, with no plans of children to speak of...

_When we our own place_, he had said, and then, after accomplishing that—_when we have more money, Keiko. We have all the time in the world, Keiko. Don't worry, no one will care. It's not like it's a bad thing. Can't we enjoy what we have now?_

_Later, Keiko. I promise._

"Are you alright?"

Inhaling sharply, she willed her ill mood to disappear along with her heated vision. Really, what good was crying over it?

"Ah, yes! Sorry, that caught me off guard," she beamed, hoping he didn't pursue the matter further. It didn't seem right to burden a friend with her miserable life.

She froze. Since when did her life become miserable?

"What was it you were studying, if you don't mind my asking," Kurama adjusted himself to give her more room, keeping his eyes carefully on her expression.

"Well," she paused, biting her lip, "I…you might find it… um…"

"Keiko. Whatever it is, I doubt I'll find it offensive," he smiled, urging her on.

Defeated, she let out a breath.

"Criminology."

His eyebrows rose. _Criminology? _Why would that...

Then he remembered what he spent most of his life doing up until a short time ago, when he escaped into this human life. He let out an abrupt chuckle.

"I thought it was education you were interested in?" He asked giving her a bemused smile.

"Well, I was in a really good psychology class, and…"

* * *

Deep in sleep on Kurama's shoulder, Keiko nearly choked on a half-snore, half-growl when she felt the floor underneath her feet tremble and shake with enough intensity to hurl her into the back of the seat in front of her, the turbulence stopping as suddenly as it started. Catching herself with her outstretched arms, she looked about in a daze, missing the light but insistent touch on her arm.

"Keiko, if you please…,"

Confused, she focused on Kurama's strained voice, following his vision down her arm to her hand hidden in the creases between his legs. Immobilized, Keiko realized the mass securely locked in her grasp was _far_ too warm and soft to be seat cushions.

"OH MY GOD, I'm sorry!" Keiko shouted, removing her imposing fingers faster than she would if she had misplaced them in an open flame, her face nearly bleeding scarlet. She heard him sigh—in relief or exasperation, she couldn't tell over the rapid drum roll in her ears.

"I—uh—didn't mean—"

"It's alright. Are you ok?"

"Ye-yeah, I guess. Are… are you—"

"I'm fine. Only a minor infraction on my person," Kurama assured her, a dangerous twinkle in his eye. Just as his eyebrows rose with another reply on the way, the train jolted again, more seriously and jarring than before. He caught her easily by the upper arm, keeping her from face planting into the armrest.

"Th—thanks," she muttered, still flustered for unconsciously groping a grown man in public.

After re-righting Keiko in her seat, Kurama smiled briefly, gesturing for her to stay put before trotting down the aisle with a lethally serious look on his face, nothing genial about his rapid departure.

Keiko watched him go with anxious brows—was this really the same guy who cracked jokes at his own expense? The one who chivalrously parted with his homemade onigiri and _smiled_ as she ate it?

Feeling another noiseless rumble, Keiko wondered if she was imagining that they were slowing down, like something _heavy_ hopped on or the conductor dropped an anchor off the side. Perhaps they were pulling into the station early? But all that shaking—couldn't be normal—

She had no more time to ponder the dark air radiating from Kurama or the train's reduction in speed, her attention immediately captured by the hair-raising screaming in the back of the cabin. Twisting around frantically to assess the commotion, Keiko pulled off her seat belt and froze, her face as pale and motionless as marble, unable to move even as people pushed each other down in the frenzy to get away.

In all the tranquil years between herself and the ghastly tournament, Keiko forgot what a demon looked like, what seeing one felt like. There was no strong Shizuru or bubbly Botan to help fortify her composure—no Yusuke to chase after, distracting her from all else. As she started to tremble, only the last few lines from a poem came to mind as she gazed at the monster bent over at an unnatural angle—

_Hell has found me;  
even kind enough to send  
a Real Estate Agent._

It stopped chewing, slowly swallowing bit by bit as if it relished each second too much to release the moment. Even from her half-turned position ten seats away, Keiko could smell the stench, the pure animalistic lust, the cracking—

Suddenly seized in what can only be classified as sneezing, the demon plunged an angry talon into the remains of his victim, brushing the corpse to the side. He lifted his short snout into the air and inhaled, excited shivers dancing across his molted gray skin. Creating something like coughing and laughter, he stretched his neck out and violently shook the multiple folds, the creature's face contorted in pained concentration. It relaxed before tensing up again, ultimately erecting his entire body into a bending arch reaching to the ceiling as it choked and struggled with swallowing, resembling a disastrous crossbreed between a bat and an earthworm as it flailed almost pitifully against the battered seats. Finally, it collapsed into a quivering pile of creases and shadows, sporadically jerking and twitching as the motion of the train's dying crawl to stillness disturbed it.

Unable to keep her breath in any longer, Keiko bit her lip to rouse her lungs from shocked silence, panting heavily into a hand as she watched with her slowly blurring vision. Her eyes involuntarily darted to the indescribable mess sloshed around the foot rests, her heart sickening.

_That was…_, she thought faintly.

Her vision failed her—the speed of the events taking place eluded her merely mortal eyes. Keiko only heard the air whirl by and felt the sudden impact of the ground against her skull, harsh and insulting to her already abused senses. Tasting blood from her bottom lip, she lifted her head and tried to concentrate on the colors through the white fog overtaking her vision, failing as her eyes dropped dangerously.

A splatter of liquid on her face cleared her haze, Kurama's vibrant hair and narrowed eyes coming into full clarity, his crouched form perched just over her feet. Though he tried to block her vision, Keiko could see the monster re-folding itself in place, liquidating and disappearing as it sunk to the floor somehow, out of her vision. She blinked and refocused on Kurama, noticing the growing scarlet stain in the fleshy crock of his shoulder. A hand unconsciously touched the thick wetness spread across her forehead.

His mouth moved in silence, the sound of his voice creeping into existence with the strength of a falling brick building behind it.

_Run far… run screaming…_

"—and _do not look back_!"

Kurama's eyes popped wide, zeroed in on the space behind Keiko.

It was the first time she ever saw a frightened look on Kurama's normally composed face, and seeing it terrified her more than the monster itself.

Without hesitation, Kurama leaped over her sprawled body, firmly grasping her around the shoulders to better protect her head, his pained gasp muffled in her hair. Both of them were hurled into the air as a monstrous force crunched through the steel encasing like rice paper, cutting right through to the tracks underneath. Kurama buffered their fall with his uninjured shoulder, carefully rolling to his knees to take Keiko in his arms and sprint through the open door to the next cabin away from the furious creature behind.

Nearly too late, Kurama felt the train lose traction as something vital connecting the carts was obliterated. He set Keiko down in a flourish to summon sturdy, leafy lines from the earth and sent them down through the gap in between carts to ensnare the metal structure before it fell any further down the rails, paling when he remembered sighting the bridge up ahead. His numerous plants pawed and mewed at the train, unable to penetrate deeper to get a better hold.

Deciding time was of the essence, Kurama mentally targeted the massive demonic energy emanating from the thing currently eating the caravan and its passengers. Releasing energy into the most ruthlessly demanding demon summon he could call for, he accidentally lost control of the vegetation keeping them all from plummeting. He corrected his mistake, cringing when the cars closest to his plant now entangling the demon began to crumple inward like a wetted newspaper ball**, **knowing very few people would survive this mess.

The tension beneath him slacked, breaking him from another lapse in his concentration. Before the last car could escape with the last of the survivors, Kurama dove for the emergency cable linking the two carts, realizing his strength alone wouldn't be enough. Spotting the sturdy metal railing, he quickly wound the thick woven steel around it before he lost too much slack, pulling tight with inhuman ability. The entire contraption lurched forward, gaining a steeper incline as the broken railroad tracks bent away from their foundation to point down at the river.

He swore bitterly, frustrated with his own ineptitude.

Keiko shrieked from the very car he was trying to save, apparently displaced with all the commotion. Kurama grit his teeth and did his best to keep calm.

Tapping into more energy, he unfurled his rose whip tangled in his hair, willing it to travel down the cable to Keiko, winding it securely under her arms and down her body like a harness. Several heads popped up behind her, all equally frightened and bloody. Grimacing, Kurama sent another steely vine down to assist the others, finding that maintaining control over so many things at once was exhausting, and soon to be impossible.

"Climb!" He shouted, feeling the strain worsen as the Feral Vine continued to grow and feast on the gremlin. Soon, now, he'd have to cut it down himself before it too, grew untamable. He was damn lucky he was able to catch the gremlin's tamer by surprise, managing to only lose the use of one arm in the quick, violent fight. He had hoped the gremlin would flee once its master perished, but…

The train shuddered, beginning a downward slide on the tracks, no longer anchored securely by Kurama's crafty vines. Groaning, he did all he could to keep the lone cart from slipping, the course cable mercilessly biting into his wrists as he held the last small cab from derailing and dropping into the rapids below.

"Do not make me repeat myself," he snapped through gritted teeth, trying to fortify his footing as the cable began to cut the iron bar it was wrapped around. Kurama knew once it gave out, he'd have to let go, or else lose his arms entirely.

_It's just like babysitting, Kurama! Come on, you owe me!_

Babysitting indeed.

Terror stricken, Keiko gaped up at him from below, his thorn whip wrapped around her waist with gentle savagery. She nodded, taking hold of it and pulling herself up, wincing as she pricked her hands. Behind her followed a few more beaten passengers, too shell-shocked to pass judgment on the strange, writhing vine helping them attain the balance needed to clear the railing and reach safety. Keiko shrieked when the metal lurched and growled under her feet, foretelling most certain disaster. Panicked, she grasped Kurama's shoulder for support before remembering his injury, grimacing at the dying crimson spreading down his arm. She could not recall seeing him get it.

"I said _run like hell_, get off the train! Find phone—"

A sickening, sliding crunch erupted from below, drowning out even the wailing of the last woman clinging desperately to Kurama's rose whip. Sobbing hysterically, Keiko nearly dropped to her knees as it reverberated through her body, liquidating the vital tension in her muscles keeping her upright. She shook her head vigorously, unable to discern the words from his lips amongst the screaming and shrill metal screeching. Kurama suddenly arched in pain, simultaneously lessoning his hold on the cable and control of the life-sustaining plants, his eyes scanning and holding Keiko's as he silently mouthed three syllables, the last snarled branch snapping and releasing the final two cars. They effortlessly glided off the broken bridge like butter across a hot pan, screaming passengers, demon plant, gremlin and all.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thought across Keiko Yukimura's sodden mind when she woke face-up in a shallow ditch was a vague memory of failing to turn off the hall light before leaving in a nervous rush to the station. Finances were tight on her own—she really ought to get out of the habit of leaving lights on. It was childish, really. There wasn't anything hiding in the shadows but her own imaginative creations.

Panic seized her chest, realizing that something _had_ come at her, but in broad daylight on a crowded train.

Keiko coughed and choked as she tried yelling out, mutely rolling onto her stomach to viciously heave into her clenched fists. Her body shook and shivered, obviously being exposed to the chilled air sopping wet for too long. Looking around wildly, she wrapped her arms around herself and leaned over her knees, trembling so badly she felt nauseous. Her throat felt like minced meat—probably screamed herself hoarse and then swallowed water down all the wrong pipeage.

Miserable, Keiko sobbed while trying to focus on her dim surroundings, acutely aware some time had passed while she floated unconscious downriver. Perhaps if she wasn't crouching in ass-cold water in naught but her underwear and undershirt, she'd feel a little grateful for somehow _surviving_ this ordeal.

Her chest froze.

"Ka—," Keiko coughed, wincing as her shredded throat nearly closed on itself. His last words to her—what did he say?

_Kurama_, she thought wistfully, all previous terror flushed clean by deadening grief. Before this day, she spoke to him perhaps a handful of times, and didn't really have an opinion of him. But even with only the short few hours spent alone with him in the station waiting for a delayed train and awkwardly pressed together in one seat in the back, Keiko found a friend. He gave her his lunch when she realized she had none, stood so she could sit, complimented her intelligence and congratulated her achievements—and now…

The wind picked up, furthering the chill already set in on her skin to a sub-freezing temperature.

_Yusuke_… _why aren't you here_?

Keiko toppled over easily from an otherwise gentle push of air. She remained motionless, curled loosely around her knees as small waves returned and crashed against her huddled form. As her consciousness drifted in and out, a familiar tone answered her unspoken question.

_What the hell are you doing? Get yourself up, you stupid woman!_

She smiled, remembering the little gravel in Yusuke's voice when he got irritated with her. He'd tell her that, wouldn't he? Always no-nonsense with him—doubtless he'd berate her for wallowing around in her panites when she _should_ be searching for a phone, for shelter. Clean clothes. Help.

_Kurama didn't waste his life so you can die from a stupid head cold!_

Grinning, Keiko closed her eyes and pictured Yusuke, flushed with anger as he pointed an irate finger at her. When was the last time he yelled at her? Perhaps when she accidentally washed his one white button down shirt with her reds. She frowned at the faded image in her head.

_I'm sorry, Yusuke—_

Realization and pain shot down her spine, her ragged breathing halting in her chest. She remembered now, what those whispered words of Kurama's were, what that awful expression on his face was.

Defeat.

Forgive me. Those were his last words.

Tearing into her bottom lip, Keiko pushed Yusuke's visage from her mind and focused on the haunted sorrow in those expressive green eyes. How _could_ she allow herself to give up so easily when—?

Keiko gathered her resolve, burning in determination to _live_, to get _out_ of this maddening mud hole and survive, if not for her own sake, for the people that cared enough about her to risk their life. Pulling herself out of the water, she looked down and noticed a thin layer of green material spread out around her, almost organic as it gently curved upward around the edges like a budding leaf. Keiko didn't contemplate it further, stepping out of it to stumble uncertainly onto the waving grass.

Recounting an early essay on surviving hypothermia, Keiko sought out a tree nearby and hobbled to it, preparing to bunker down from the wind while her clothes hung out to dry on a limb.

* * *

Keiko waited for the sun to clamber up into the sky before departing, missing the it's heat immensely. It was summer, but the night was excruciatingly cold. Though she felt confident about the direction of civilization—if the gentle white haze above the trees was anything to go by—Keiko wasn't as secure about how to go about her wardrobe situation. Somehow, her practical knee-length black pencil skirt disappeared in the time she miraculously survived the fall from the hillside and gained consciousness amongst the lily pads and thrushes. Her matching jacket and collared, button-down sleeveless blouse were also absent, leaving her with a flimsy cotton spaghetti-strap top and panties. Not useful for much else than prostitution, she thought bitterly.

Fingering a frayed hem, she looked down at the scattered pile of long green blades she picked by the stream, wondering how the _hell_ she was going to weave something wearable out of grass. It seemed like a good idea—if Keiko actually knew how to do it. Home Ec. didn't cover "how to weave plants when you're stranded in the wild in your underwear." She sighed, hitching a finger in a small rip in her shirt over her ribs.

Finally an idea struck her.

Keiko deepened the rip, tearing the cloth horizontally along the bottom part of her bra. It split evenly, resulting in a clean-cut sports bra-like effect and a tube of extra material. She pulled it down over her hips, standing up so she could wiggle and urge it down further. Anxious, she teetered in a circle, looking at herself from every possible angle to inspect her work. It was a scandalous ensemble—but at least she wouldn't get arrested on the spot for indecent exposure, though that wasn't very comforting.

With her last problem solved, she set out with a shakey stride, cautiously tugging the makeshift skirt down every other step. Her mother would stroke out if she knew her only daughter was going out in public clad in less clothing than a hooker—Keiko herself was having moral issues. However, she felt more the pangs of hunger in her stomach, rivaled only by the nausea that seemed to have set in during her brief nap huddled underneath a low-lying bush.

Before long, even with the sun as a guide, she found herself worrying about the direction she was taking. Indeterminable shrubbery choked the path in every direction—it was impossible to go any faster than a toddler's crawl, God _forbid_ if that same monster came after her now, with restrictive clothing and _without_ Kurama and his formable whip. The dizziness was getting worse, dehydration setting in, the urge to vomit now overpowering her urge to eat anything.

A shadow passed over her mood.

If only she hadn't _insisted_ on attending that stupid seminar in Hokkaido. It was far from home—and with Yusuke gone yet again… But she needed the attendance credit. Her employer promised to increase her salary if she went, a sizable amount that could easily help fill the gap that Yusuke's earnings left. No more meager meals or minor panic attacks when the mail man ghosted by. Really, it was supposed to be a spectacular event, with guest speakers from all over, even a professor from Russia. And with Kurama so happening to have business in northern Honshu, accompanying her part of the way—the whole thing couldn't have been more harmless, almost low key enough to be a vacation.

And things couldn't have gone worse.

Sidestepping an ominous bush with fang-like thorns, Keiko wondered if climbing through the trees would bear better results—like on that ninja anime on TV they aired sometimes. Just as she half-heartedly reached for a low-riding bough, a pair of gleaming eyes suspended above her hand met her own, freezing her movement. A low moan escaped her throat, aggravating the already sore and abused tissue. Was it a snake? A squirrel?

A low snarl rumbled from behind, drowning her worries about the creature in front. Shaking, Keiko did her best not to imagine the dark specter from every nightmare she will doubtless be having for the rest of her life. As something wetly snapped and released an unearthly shriek, Keiko decided keeping her back turned was an unwise idea. And when she turned, she discovered doing so was far worse.

Hanging in its gray talons was a corpse of some kind, twisted and folded in half like a terry cloth towel. Keiko's eyes stayed fixated on the ambiguous victim, unable to help visualizing herself in a similar situation, remembering the garish scene from on the train. She felt shards of ice flow through her veins as she slowly dropped her eyes down the monster's body, almost fascinated how everything about it was so grotesquely un-human. Keiko couldn't focus or retain a visual area of more than four or five inches, her mind continuously pumped clean with fear and adrenalin.

Finally, the bat-eared demon unleashed something like a snorted burp, dropping its grizzled bundle—looking more and more like a small dog—to lumber closer. Tears streamed down her face, dropping from her chin before she even realized she was crying.

As it approached, an even more awful glint shone in the creature's vibrant orange eyes as it leered at her exposed torso, the creature's intent steadily drifting down to her ridiculous joke of a skirt. The worst kind of dread flooded her senses, driving Keiko to protectively cross herself with her arms and back up, her unsteady progress halted by a sudden vertical force. To her horror, it wrapped itself around her shoulders like an iron shawl, securely locking her in place.

Hot hair batted at her ears and bangs as a soft, calming voice spoke to her. Keiko immediately went lax, the tension evaporating so fast she felt faint.

She tried to respond, but the pain and panic lodged a dam in her throat.

Kurama gently maneuvered Keiko's shivering form behind him, placing himself between the monster and herself. A soon as his gentle lock disengaged, she dropped to her knees and leaned heavily on her outstretched arms buried in the thick compost in front of her. Wordlessly, he walked forward, red and green clutched in his right hand.

His next actions remained a mystery to Keiko, her vision and strength fading to nothingness.

* * *

"…can't reveal much on the phone…"

Keiko woke to her bangs dancing across her face, propelled by the tepid breeze continuously blowing from a fan positioned next to the bed. She lay motionless, still paralyzed by her vivid dream.

"…she's resting…horrible experience…"

Covering her was a threadbare sheet, so beaten and worn it molded to her body like a wet tissue. Keiko blinked at the ceiling, amazed how perfectly fluffy her pillow was. Kurama was silent for a long time.

"…_no_," he said flatly, "you should know better than to ask."

Curious, Keiko turned her head to follow the sound of Kurama's voice, resting on his form huddled over a phone on the table, his mane of scarlet hair pulled into a low pony tail trailing down his back. Sweat glistened off of his neck and shoulders, glimmering in the hazy sunset light cast in horizontal bars from the partially closed shades. He idly picked at a run in his shirt, a gray tank top he probably wore as an undershirt. Keiko silently pulled herself into a sitting position, feeling momentary dizziness as the sudden change in elevation overwhelmed her.

"It's dangerous to remain on the line any longer. I'll call you back at a later point," he finally mumbled, returning the protesting phone back into the receiver. Kurama cradled his face in his hands, grasping at his roots as he sighed.

"Kuh—," she choked out, stopping mid syllable to cough violently until her throat and chest burned. A cool, balmy hand gently rested on her shoulder.

"Best if you don't speak for a while."

Keiko nodded, wondering how he crossed the room so quickly—and so _quietly_. Still covering her mouth, she glanced around the narrow room with unease. A single chair and table rested on the other side of the room, the latter being bolted to the floor against the wall. There were no other adornments except a single battered dresser with a small TV on top beside the bed, the television set turned outward to table. Returning her vision to Kurama, she saw he had pulled the other chair to the bedside.

Her brow furrowed. How long had…?

"We're just outside of Aomori," Kurama stated, misreading her questioning gaze. She merely nodded again, her eyes again wandering to the paint peeling off the walls and the small white cube in the corner she missed before.

They sat without moving, only the whir of the fan keeping the silence from crushing them both. Kurama shifted his weight, removing his hand from her shoulder with a polite cough. She appraised him again, noting the moisture around his hairline. The room was sweltering hot—as expected in late July—but instead of positioning the fan strategically by the window to catch a draft, he set it to blow directly on her. She frowned at him, wondering how he could be so self-sacrificing, even then.

"I am sorry I could not protect you," he nearly rasped, his eyes hidden by his damp bangs. Keiko observed him in mild shock, her jaw dropping slightly.

"Yawdo—," she croaked, her throat collapsing instantly. Eyes wavering, Keiko gaped at him with as much intent as she could, hoping her message could somehow go through.

_You don't have to say you're sorry_. _I'm just happy you're alive._

Kurama sighed, admonishing her with a light tap against her temple.

"Let me get you a drink. Yusuke would have my _head_ if he knew in what terrible condition I keep you," he chuckled, rising from his chair. He continued to talk as he crossed the tiny room.

"I must apologize for the poor accommodations We're far enough from civilization that walking would not be feasible," he squatted down in front of the white cube, opening it to reach his hand inside. Keiko mouthed an 'o.' So it was a refrigerator.

"This building was the first I could find coming from the woods off the road…seems to be an abandoned apartment complex, probably due to the cockroach infestation…," he trailed off, quickly twisting around on his ankles to assure a white-faced Keiko with a dismissing wave of his hand.

"Don't worry—one of the first things I did was clear the area," Kurama laughed, returning to an upright state while holding a nameless canned green tea in one hand and a fruit in the other. He easily slid himself back into his seat, handing her both the items and continued speaking.

"Luckily, it wasn't difficult to route electricity into the room, but I'm afraid my meager technical skills weren't enough to fix the air conditioning or the TV."

Keiko held the cool can to her forehead, reveling in the chilly condensation left on her skin as she slid the drink back and forth against her eyebrows. Feeling refreshed, she dragged the beverage down to her throat, almost moaning when the cold relief penetrated to where it hurt the most, a few escaped drops of water pooling in the hallow between her collar bones. She sighed, opening her eyes to see why Kurama had suddenly stopped talking.

His gaze rested heavily on her neck, staring so intently she almost blushed. Hearing her slight intake of air, Kurama blinked and turned away.

"As I was saying, all of our possessions were lost on the train…"

Still feeling a warm tickle in her stomach, Keiko removed the tea from her throat and opened it quickly, taking a sip to extinguish the sudden flare of emotion. She felt more shock than shame, however—even Kurama wasn't immune to being a man, she supposed—but she couldn't excuse herself. How long had it been since Yusuke looked at her like that, she wondered—or even looked at her at all? Months had gone by since his last visit, days since his last phone call. How _busy_ can the supposed lord of the demon realm be, she thought dryly. Kurama's smooth question shook her from her thoughts, doubtlessly the tail end of a detailed report of the situation that she just spaced out on.

"…okay by yourself for an hour or so?"

She nodded, not sure what all she was agreeing to. He smiled and rose, picking up his orange jacket from the side table. Fear gripped Keiko as he neared the door, chills running down her spine despite the suffocating heat. Struggling with the covers, she rolled out of the bed and awkwardly kneeled there entangled in her sheet, doing her damndest to get a clear syllable out.

As she kneeled there, Keiko realized her action, breaking out into a cold sweat with shame. She dropped her head to cover her eyes with her forearm. Kurama silently dropped on one knee to her side.

"Keiko," he finally whispered, lifted her elbow away from her face, "I will _not_ let you come to any further harm, I promise." He waited until she nodded, helping her back into bed.

"I'll be back in very little time. Perhaps you have better luck than I with getting the TV to function," he mused, drifting a dirty look toward the dresser for Keiko's benefit.

She wiped her face and grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurama didn't need his thousand years of experience of breaking and entering to know how poorly guarded the residential area was. It was almost disappointing, really—but Kurama's more moral self reminded him that his thieving days were long over, as well as any thrills from cracking an unsolvable code or lock. It should be a good thing that every door he came to was unbolted—as if that made it any less incriminating and hypocritical, he thought wryly.

He grinned, recalling an innocent accusation from their earlier conversation on the train. Shiny things _did_ catch his interest, little did Keiko know.

Pulling the heavy tote higher on his shoulder, he checked his thoughts again for any useful items to look for, concerned about the sheer number of deserted buildings and houses looking recently abandoned. If Kurama was any less rational, he might have found the apocalyptic scene unnerving—but as it stood, he knew there was a logical reason.

A roach crawled across his shoe, undisturbed by Kurama's presence. He frowned and looked back out at the scenery.

He squinted. Something was off—between the slight discoloration of the greenery or the absence of non-insect wildlife, Kurama suspected foul play on humanity's part. He racked his brains for any recent news concerning the northern part of mainland Japan, only remembering a vague report on increased bird activity in the port towns. Certainly not the case here—

His watch chirped on his wrist, breaking his thoughts as Keiko's face ran through his mind. Even with his improv security system, he felt uneasy leaving the girl alone for too long. With A-Class demon assassins after her scent, Kurama doubted she'd be safe even with his most ruthless snares without him present. Yusuke had been correct to send him with her as an escort, though Kurama doubted Yusuke expected anything to actually happen. Things must be going well for the demon lord, if the dissenting party felt desperate enough to put a hit out on his girlfriend. And Yusuke has gotten lax, if he allowed such obvious suspects to wander through, especially so close to home.

And he wasn't the only one going soft.

It took his last bit of energy to encase Keiko in a pod to keep her from dying upon impact. In his heyday, he could have made _chateaubriand_ out of that gremlin, let alone keep such a despairing situation from occurring. So many innocents on that train…

Kurama groaned, the image of Keiko laboriously cooling herself with a can of tea flashing across his eyes. It would be hard not to develop some sort of attraction to her in such close proximity, especially if they continued to travel together for any period of time, but Kurama knew it would be far more dangerous than difficult to submit to his emotions.

Keiko was, after all, the demon king's lover. If he even _considered_ thinking about her like that, Yusuke would do far worse than merely murder him.

* * *

Kurama was wrong for once—no matter how many wires she wiggled or pulled on, the TV remained suspended in a state of fuzzy silence. Finally giving up, she sprawled herself out on the tiny bed and listened to the steady hum of the fan, drifting in and out of an uneasy doze waiting for Kurama to return. She really hoped he brought back something to calm her lurching stomach—Keiko felt growing nausea return ever since she gained consciousness, only made worse since eating that apple. Sleep was impossible—every time she shut her eyes, an image of the woman torn apart like melting putty in a wood chipper burned itself in her eyelids.

"Keiko? I'm coming in," stated a muted voice from beyond the door. She swelled, sliding off the bed to meet Kurama upright, ignoring her teetering vision.

He opened the door and wearily let himself in, saddled with mismatched bags and satchels brimming with a myriad of shapes pressed against the cloth. Keiko began to wobble toward him, hoping to take some of the burden, but he waved her off with a look. She fidgeted in place, wishing more than _ever_ she could vocalize her thoughts.

Wordlessly, Kurama deposited his agglomeration on the lone table, sighing when he realized he displaced the phone receiver. An anxious Keiko hovered behind to see what all he brought.

Kurama eyed her shaking knees.

"Sit down," he commanded, lacking his usual gentle cadence. She took the seat he offered, slightly stung by his brusque tone.

Folding her hands in her lap, Keiko watched as he wrenched open the largest sack and pulled out the first item on top—a beige satin chemise accented by brown lace. He scowled at it, a look of disbelief on his face as he muttered something about mistaken identity. Before he could toss it to the side, Keiko snagged it from his fingers with amazing dexterity, surprising even herself.

Kurama exhaled through his nose in defeat, shrugging as he dipped his hand in again, piling nameless articles of clothing next to the bags. Her attention, however, remained on the silky material in her hands, fingering the flower design in the hem. It wasn't something she'd normally don—especially in the presence of a man _not_ Yusuke—but after a night or two sleeping at the mercy of her coarse dress jacket regained from the river weeds, Keiko started to look at cloth a bit differently. Surely, it wouldn't be a sin to enjoy something _soft_ against her skin for once? Even with Yusuke, she wore her flannel pajamas religiously, sweating it out on summer nights. No one would know she accepted lingerie from another man—not even Kurama himself, if she wore it _under_ her clothes.

Scruples be damned. She was _going_ to wear it.

"This is a little more presentable," he said, breaking her from her private musings. Kurama held up a pink smock of some kind—cotton and spandex, probably.

She lifted her nose in mock scorn, taking it after making sure Kurama saw her teasing grin. It wouldn't matter _what_ detestable material it was made from with her secret silk shift underneath. Probably be better to cover more of herself, anyway. She glanced down at her bare knees, wondering if Kurama thought she was… whorish, maybe, for running around in panties and a tailored coat that barely cleared her waist. It wasn't if she had a choice.

Keiko blanched, her good mood faltering.

"Are you feeling ill?"

Keiko abruptly stood up, taking with her the satin chemise and the blaring flower-print article he held up a moment ago. As she staggered to the bathroom, Kurama appeared in her path, a grim expression on his face.

"Keiko," he warned, steadying her when she threatened to lean into him, "please detain yourself from reckless behavior."

She _almost_ snorted. Since when was going to the bathroom deemed reckless behavior?

"Aye—"

His piercing glare stopped her short, erasing any desire to further tempt crossing Kurama. Confusion crossed her features—why was he so mad?

"Back into bed with you," Kurama stated, directing his startling gaze over her shoulder at the tangle of sheets and pillows. He froze, seeming to take in his command.

"I should rephrase that—I meant for you _alone_ to—never mind. Pay no attention to me," he sighed, all traces of anger fading from his voice. He peeked at her through this fingers.

"It's been a long day."

Keiko allowed herself to be twirled and propelled in the opposite direction, climbing over the mess of covers to the center, relaxing into a cross-legged position. Seeming satisfied, he turned back to the table and continued to sort through the bags, a concentrated look of boredom on his face.

She lay back on the pillows, bewildered by Kurama's mood changes.

Just who _was_ he?

To keep himself occupied, Kurama sorted through the various objects scattered on and under the table, figuring it would be enough to keeps his thoughts from wandering too far from his seat.

* * *

He was failing miserably.

When Keiko lay unconscious for two days covered by nothing but a thin sheet, he was consumed with paternal concern and guilt, easily keeping his mind clean as he went about preparing a suitable environment for her recovery. Kurama also had Yusuke to deal with, the man's fury and disbelief sobering enough on its own. He had _plans_. Get Keiko mobile, get her home—but then…

Keiko groaned again in her sleep, stripping the sheet off of herself as she changed positions. The modest flowery sundress she eventually agreed to change into had risen up, exposing the damnable shift he picked up as well as most of her perfect legs.

He scowled.

Kurama honestly thought it was a hand towel or handkerchief, but as he considered it, satin and lace were _not_ the preferred materials used in their construction.

Babysitting indeed.

Nomatter, he thought, rubbing his eyes before returning to the monotonous task of sifting the clothes into neat piles according to color and use, already have gone through and organized the food and miscellaneous items. Distraction was not an option—he had to keep himself as far removed from Yusuke's lover as possible. Even a slight slip in judgment could be catastrophic for them both, and Keiko was a _very_ easy person to be relaxed around, enough to shake his resolve. It was damn near impossible to remain apathetic.

However, Kurama had a tight rein on his emotions and desires, even as far as demons go. Lust was easily controllable, but friendly affection was not. If left to its own devices, that innocent feeling—at least as far as Keiko was concerned—could grow into something far more powerful and consuming than even the most lethal pangs of passion.

And _that _was what Kurama was afraid of.

"Nhg, no," Keiko croaked, turning again. More leg was visible, a flash of white peeking at him from underneath the chemise.

He frowned again, wondering if he pissed off someone he shouldn't have, that nameless god now testing him.

Keiko's sluggish protests increased, gaining panicked intensity as she grew louder and flailed about in the sea of pillows. Concerned, Kurama rose from his seat and cautiously walked over, wincing as his joints popped painfully—resultant of sitting too long, no doubt. Upon closer inspection, he noted the wet streaks winding across her cheeks like snail tracks and her unusually pale complexion.

Subconsciously tensing, Kurama tenderly brushed a tendril of hair from her eyes and blew air on her face, hoping to wake her up as gently as possible. Keiko continued to thrash about, her night terror growing worse despite his efforts. She was breaking out into a cold sweat, straining her vocal chords further as she continued to cry out nonsense syllables. When Kurama caught his name in the midst, he gave up subtle tactics and forcefully shook her by the shoulders.

"Keiko! Wake yourself! _Keiko_!"

"Naagh, neh—_no_!"

She shot up, head butting him dead center on the nose. Kurama bit his lip to keep from swearing, holding his offended member from view. Swallowing blood tricking from the back of his nasal cavity, he smiled at the wide-eyed girl and gestured calmly to his face with his other hand.

"Keiko, I do believe you broke my nose," he stated, his tone nasally and muted.

He hoped for a humorous effect, finding it rather funny himself—in all his fights and skirmishes, none of his opponents managed to do what Keiko just accomplished in her sleep—but as he observed her welling eyes, Kurama decided it probably was a bad call.

"Ayem… sohr…," she wobbled, interrupted by hiccups.

"No, no! No worries, see? All fixed," Kurama removed his hand, quickly and nearly painlessly snapping his nose back in place, to Keiko's horror.

She started crying, a raspy and pitiful sound.

_Damn it,_ he thought, eyeing a sobbing Keiko, trying to figure out _where_ his brain went. One doesn't simply reset a broken _anything_ in front of someone unused to such events, least of all a vulnerable and emotionally taxed girl woken from a vivid nightmare. He paused as he reached out for her, uncharacteristically hesitant. Sighing, he settled on rubbing her back, whispering assurances to sooth her, keeping an ear on her thundering heartbeat and a check on his as well.

"Now, now, Keiko, now, now… what would Yusuke think if he saw you like this? You know what he would say?" Kurama asked, using his shirt to wipe the mucus and blood off of her forehead. She gaped at him, still letting out an intermediate snivel. His heart flopped in his chest, all effort to remain emotionally empty utterly and completely backfiring.

He pulled his brows together and scowled, slicking one hand back through his bangs to give his best Yusuke impression.

"You dumb girl, stop crying over something stupid. He deserved to get slugged in the nose trying to throttle an unconscious girl awake," Kurama growled, using his expert imitation skills to do justice to the ex-detective's uncouth style of speech.

Keiko's face dropped, her eyes blinking several times in disbelief. Only when Kurama's eyebrow began to twitch rapidly from keeping an unnatural position for so long did she start to laugh, one hesitant 'hah' tripping after another. He relaxed into an easy grin with her nervous giggling picking up speed, encouraged to try another face, glaring at her with a notoriously known smirk. He released some of his shorter hair to stand on end, hoping she'd get the reference.

"What's so funny, human wench? Is something _humorous _about the way I look?"

Releasing all restraint, Keiko laughed harder than Kurama ever heard her before, wondering how much time passed since she let loose and really enjoyed herself. This was not the mirthful chuckle of an amused soul, but the unleashed tension of someone holding it in far too long. Figuring he was on a roll, he rolled his hair into a loopy cylinder on top of his head, hoping his voice wouldn't suffer permanent effects.

"_YUKINA,_ my love!"

* * *

Kurama exhaled, setting his elbows comfortably at his sides as Keiko snuggled deeper into the comforter. It seemed he was doomed after all, no matter his struggles to stay detached. The girl was too damn _cute_ for her own good, her nature too pure.

Despite himself, he was growing fond of Keiko. Nothing else could be the reason why he spent an hour damaging his voice box impersonating Kuwabara reading Shakespeare to keep her entertained, to elicit more hoarse laughter until she giggled herself to sleep. He only hoped she didn't destroy her throat (or his)—something he didn't think about until the middle of _Romeo and Juliet_—or in this case—_Kuwabara and Yukina_.

And now, even when he could easily steal himself away from her side, Kurama remained fixated, unable to break himself from his ardent promise to stay nearby. It was just something in her eyes that kept him rooted in the chair next to the bed, well after she slipped into unconsciousness. Perhaps he was afraid the absence of his presence would wake her, or worse—initiate another nightmare.

Damn it all. It was a slippery slope he was treading, but Kurama knew even if he _could_ back himself up to safety—

* * *

Sometime that night, Keiko shifted back into consciousness, feeling overheated. After several attempts, she was able to tear away the sheets with her sleepy arms and roll a few inches to the side onto new, untouched and thankfully chilly sheets. Her eyes were closed, but she still felt the world swimming, like she had summersaulted a thousand times rather than turn over in her half-sleep. Keiko sighed and waited for it to pass.

A creak got her attention, coming from close to her head. She peered into the darkness, focusing on the form in the chair beside the bed.

Kurama's head rested on the wall, his neck leaned back as he seemed to be propped up by the chair and the bedside table. Unidentified emotion crept across her chest, and she stared out at his form. His Adam's apple was prominent, as well as his well-defined jawline and tall, proud nose. She never saw him from that angle before.

Keiko silently appraised his arms crossed over his chest, covered by his jacket. She blinked.

He was attractive.

Not thinking much else of it, she closed her eyes again and relied on her breathing to lull her to sleep.

* * *

Twelve thirty.

Keiko rhythmically drummed her fingers on her knee, each tick of the second hand on the clock getting agonizingly slower.

Twelve thirty _one_…

Just when was he getting _back_?

Twelve thirty one and a half.

Frustrated and queasy, Keiko growled out loud, scrubbing the sweat gathered under her hairline with the sheet. Kurama's note clearly dictated his absence would be quick and probably unnoticed, even dated with the time and a decent chibi sketch of Kuwabara holding a skull with kitten ears.

Really, who knew the man had such a twisted sense of humor? And what's worse—Keiko enjoyed it.

She peeked again at the wall clock.

Twelve thirty three.

_This is completely unfair_, she sighed, wishing she had _something_ to keep her mind on besides the rolling waves in her stomach. Keiko felt like absolute crap, wrecked with extreme chills, nausea, and a constant headache. Every hour it seemed to get worse.

And then…

She nibbled on her lower lip, feeling childish. Really—didn't Kurama say he put some alarm or something around the building? It didn't make sense to be so on edge. She just didn't feel safe without him there—it was the same with Yusuke. Keiko _hated_ being alone too long.

As if in response to her thoughts, footsteps echoed from outside, long determined strides she was beginning to recognize instantly. She fluttered over to the door, ready to open it for him and smile in greeting, but decided that was too forward, teetering over to the table like she had been sitting there for a while—but who sits at a table with nothing to do? She rose from the chair and dashed for the bed, deciding to look like she didn't _care_ he had been gone so long—like an hour and a half constituted a long period time—or maybe she should feign unconsciousness? Oh that's so lame. Back to the table…

Before she could decide which leg to cross over, the door burped and creaked open, Kurama's thoughtful expression lighting on her erect form, one brow quirked high in speculation. Another wave washed over her, stirred up by her scuffling around. She hoped she wasn't turning green.

"Well, good afternoon," he said, his light cadence almost tangible in her gut. She pushed her near panic aside, figuring it to be attributed to her current stomach problems.

Unable to respond, she simply nodded and smiled, her pulse quickening when he returned the gesture and felt the tingle again. Kurama appraised her with a concerned scowl.

"How long have you had a fever?"

She blinked, unaware she had a brilliant flush across her face and neck. He reached Keiko in a few easy steps and dropped the clear jug on the table behind her, laying a cool hand on her forehead. Kurama swore under his breath. Wordlessly, he twirled Keiko around and ushered her to the bed, carefully tucking pillows into place to ensure her comfort before whipping around to fetch water.

Dizzy, she followed him with her eyes, wondering how much longer she'd have to _endure_ this. In truth, Keiko pushed her discomfort as far from her mind as humanly possible, but it was catching up with her. Kurama's concerned pacing made her aware she was seeing double—or else Kurama had a scowling twin hugging his step. She decided to focus on her hands, her stomach rising almost into her throat.

"Drink this."

She followed the sound of his voice to his mouth, feeling disoriented. It was almost scary, she thought, how quickly she went from feeling just a little like fresh road kill to a week-old raccoon pancake. Keiko eyed the mug, wondering when she last consumed anything. She'd be vomiting all morning… Kurama had said give it time…

"Keiko…," he warned, pressing the cup against her fingers. Swallowing, she gathered her courage and shook her head, fearing any additional demands on her stomach would insight an internal riot. Her throat was killing her _without_ the consistent flow of acid bile.

"I understand you are feeling nauseated…"

_That's the understatement of the year_, she thought, inhaling sharply as his fingers lightly tapped her wrist. His touch was somehow shocking.

"…but I need you to try and drink this. I promise you, it _will_ settle your stomach."

Keiko conceded, trusting his judgment. The beverage nearly slipped through her lank hold.

"There," he purred, stepping back to regard her with searching eyes once she had a solid grip on the mug, "that was not so terrible, was it?"

She grimaced, settling back into the mound of pillows and tried not to vomit.

In truth, she did feel better after drinking the sweet liquid. She briefly wondered if he put some otherworldly herb in it.

"And this—"

Kurama dropped a rust-colored college-ruled note book by her knees, following by with a partially opened pack of mundane black and blue pens. She blinked.

_How thoughtful_…

Smiling, Keiko picked it up and opened the cover, noticing he even took the time to rip the first few used pages out.

She tested out a pen in her hand, clicking it open and closed.

"On a scale of one to ten, how bad has the vomiting been since I left?"

Blinking at him, she dumbly looked at her hands, unable to clearly formulate a plan to free her hands to show a number. Instead she open the cover and clicked the pen. Keiko showed it to him.

He nodded.

"Have you been able to urinate?"

To his credit, he only hesitated for a fraction of second before the word _urinate_.

She scribbled her response, and to her credit, managed not to hide behind the notepad.

Kurama seemed satisfied with his inquires, although perhaps not with her answers.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in silence broken only by the occasional and meaningful clack of a glass of water or tea set down on the bedside. Keiko doodled aimlessly, wondering where Yusuke was and what he was doing.

* * *

Keiko eventually found sleep's peaceful and numbing embrace, sinking into a void at first deprived of sensation. However, soon the vague darkness began to swirl and dance, the sightless motion quickly becoming the embodiment of nausea and discomfort. She turned away from it, yearning for an escape, but her mental struggle only added to the immense but purely metaphysical battle.

A beam of slightly lighter matter streaked across her mind's horizon, catching her focus intensely. She measured it, pried into the thin border and desperately tried to widen the black-gray gap—anything to put a barrier between herself and the obsidian river flowing in sickening waves. Keiko found the sliver pliable, easily encasing her being inside and wrapping the corners around herself to enjoy the cool absence of feeling.

As she breathed a sigh of relief, the small space around her lightened to a watery stone hue and inflated to encompass the entire plane. Her attention was drawn to a corner developing colors, unknowingly becoming drawn in. Soon the puddle of pastels cloaked her as well, plunging her into a chromatic pulse with something similar to sound and warmth. Keiko reached out into it, sensing the presence of a dream taking shape disconcertingly close.

The floor formed, followed by distantly familiar walls framing a moderately size room. She recognized some furniture and distorted paintings—this was her room. A warped impression of her childhood room.

She lunged for her bed, rolling languorously in her covers with the intention of reaching yet another layer of unconsciousness when a figure loomed in her doorway. Keiko shot up with agility and awareness allotted only in her dreams, cautious of her visitor. She called out.

It strode across the room and stood in the center, waiting for an identity. She appraised it, searching for something recognizable in his stance or gesture, finding only a confusing mesh of wisp and solid. The specter seemed to sense Keiko's uncertainty, gliding closer for her to more thoroughly inspect. She leaned forward at its beckoning, unflinching as it posed and shifted in a series of shapes for her amusement. She smiled.

A shrill ringing pierced through the calm contours of the room, disturbing her vision as waves emanated from the cut and blurred the once pristine order of lines and colors into a meaningless gray. Keiko sought fruitlessly to hold onto the dream, feeling phantom frustration having not decided who her dark stranger was, but the high drone grew louder and broader, severing her line of sight. It continued to grow at an exponential rate, soon becoming a crippling pain between her temples that expelled her from sleep and screaming back into reality.

* * *

"Yes…no… She's… _no_."

Keiko hugged the pillow to her chest, doing her best to sip at the tasteless black broth stirring of its own accord in the mug. Kurama said it was a special brew—and it _was_ helping_…_

"Yusuke, to be quite frank…"

Where was he sleeping? Certainly not in the bed with her—did he sleep in the chair again? That must be so uncomfortable—perhaps she better ask—

"...oh, _hardly_…"

Keiko looked up when Kurama's normally gentle tone turned savage, wondering what Yusuke could have said. She wished—and not for the first time—she had some sort of supernatural ability to discern quiet voices. An idea flashed across her mind.

"Indecision doesn't suit you," Kurama growled, pausing to collect himself. He put a hand to his throbbing head and wondered where his normal patience with the ex-detective went. A flash of white from Keiko's direction caught his eye. He acknowledged her signal and nodded, picking up the strands of the cumbersome conversation.

"Do what you must. If things don't improve on my end, I will take the necessary actions." He snapped the phone in the receiver and crossed over to the girl, motioning for her to hand him the notebook. He read the neat scrawl quickly.

"Yes, it was Yusuke. I'm afraid it wouldn't do much good to describe the details of the situation—and I have been specifically instructed _not_ to—but I will tell you that nothing more will happen to you," he assured her, handing the spiral bound paper back. She frowned, leaning over to write more. His eyes followed her steady strokes, and soon his face mirrored her dark scowl.

"No… Yusuke did not ask to talk with you. I believe he… wishes for you to rest."

Her distinctive snort said she thought otherwise. Kurama chuckled. He silently read her next inquiry, his eyebrows arching in surprise. Grinning boyishly, he gestured to the chair at the desk, the floor, and the deep-set windowsill. Keiko frowned. This disturbed her. Since the moment this wayward trip started Kurama sacrificed himself to no extent. She felt immensely guilty. Without a second to deliberate with reason, she handed Kurama a precariously written note.

He regarded her with a blank expression she was soon learning to be his automatic response to a difficult question or to hide conflicting emotions.

"I do not think it would be wise to share the same sleeping arrangements."

Kurama returned the book to her and strode away, almost stiffly compared to his easy gait. Feeling hallowed inside, Keiko swallowed with anxiety. She sincerely hoped she didn't make him _angry_… He was so hard to read—and she thought Yusuke was difficult. Re-reading her proposal, she realized it was rather bold. What wasshe _thinking_, asking Kurama to sleep in the bed with her?

"I'm going out for a bit."

She froze in shame, wondering if he, too, thought she was a sleaze.

* * *

_Dear Kurama —_

_I hope that—what I mean to say is I did not mean to exhibit brash behavior by asking you to—_

She tore the sheet out without bothering to crunch the page into a ball, instead flinging it to the side to join the rest.

_Dear Kurama:_

_I did not mean to offend you_

Another paper ball hit the wall.

_Dear Kurama,_

_I promise I'm not like that, I just wanted you to be comfortable_

Oh god, she thought, tearing out yet another attempt, how _hard_ can a simple letter be?!

Before she could finish the last stroke of his name for another try, Keiko heard the tell-tale disturbance in the hallway signaling the return of her addressee. A quick glance around made her question how long she'd been at letter writing. Then she starting panicking.

With a graceless flump to her knees, she wrestled with vertigo and queasiness as she did her best to gather the evidence of her uneasy mind. Her stomach lurched, threatening another painful bout if she didn't still herself. The door knob rattled—she was too late—

"Keiko—what are you—?"

Her elbow gave out suddenly, heaving her into the small pile of paper. She felt her face heat up.

He was there in an instant, one arm snug across her chest and one under her bust line before she could register he even moved. Keiko held her breath, a different kind of heat spreading across her face in reaction to Kurama's body heat steadily seeping in from behind—an all-encompassing sensation made more intimate when she felt warmth all the way down to the soft backside of her knees. He was crouched over her, she thought with astonishment. All other sensation seemed to disappear.

He let out a baited breath and gently extracted her from her kneeling position on the ground, slowly hoisting her back to the bed. Keiko felt empty the moment his hands left her shoulders to pick up one of the mangled pieces of paper littering the ground. He scowled has he read it, gathering from a quick perusal over the rest of the mess all he needed to know. Almost immediately his face softened.

Wordlessly, he dropped the letter to gently grasp her freezing hand, lowering his voice to a soft drawl Keiko swore she never heard him use before.

"I most certainly _do not_ think you are anything short of an outstanding lady."

He smiled, laid a chaste kiss across her knuckles, and departed her side for something he left at the door. She unconsciously touched her tingling fist to her chin, following him with her wide-eyed gaze. Her mind slowly digested his words, her lips creeping into a wobbly smile. If she were capable of proper thought, she'd chastise herself for behaving like a love-struck teenager.

She started when Kurama re-positioned himself at her side in the chair. He regarded her with a thoughtful look, seeming to look inward for his own answers. Finally, he settled on something, resetting the pen and notebook in her lap.

"You misread my intentions—or rather, you believe I misunderstand yours," he paused, watching for a response. She swallowed painfully and nodded for more.

"If I may presume—you find my sleeping on the floor disturbing, offering to share a portion of the bed to alleviate my discomfort."

Keiko sighed and bobbed her head, a weight lifted from her body. He continued, taking more time between words, like carefully trodding a minefield.

"I only wish to deter any… distress my presence…would have—," Kurama hesitated, halting when he could find no euphemistic way to phrase his point. He could almost swear he heard a voiceless giggle from the girl next to him bent over the pad, already writing a response. He quickly read it as it was offered to him, his eyebrows once again disappearing into his bangs. Kurama re-read the sentence again to himself, breaking out into a grin despite himself. It read:

_at least take a pillow, geez_

Instead of giving her a verbal reply, he took up a pen and scrawled an answer of his own.

_Perhaps one._

* * *

Not another word was spoken for hours—instead a steady whir of paper and pen scritching dominated the room as the two passed the well-abused and nearly empty notebook back and forth, having an entire conversation in ink. Nothing was taboo. Rarely could Keiko discuss herself and her life so freely, so completely and without fear of repercussion. After all, most of her life was overshadowed by secrecy and the shade of Yusuke's dealing with the supernatural. She could only tell her mother so much.

In return, she learned about Kurama and his lifestyle, his dilemmas and his problems. So used to Yusuke, it came as a pleasant shock to find him so strikingly different.

She watched him lounge beside her on the bed writing a lengthy statement. His assessment of her rather careless remark about feeling fat because her jeans are a big snug these days. She observed him almost analytically, unable to stop her eyes from resting on his lower lip—he nibbled on it sometimes, probably a subconscious habit—and found her gaze dropping to the hallow of his throat, how his collar bone was so defined even under his shirt. The more time spent so close to his person, the more familiar Kurama became under her gaze. She didn't feel ashamed to look at him, nor did she feel girlish and heated—it just felt right to do it.

He nudged the pad back into her lap, keenly watching her as she read. It was a humorous anecdote, about a panda wasting away before the moon waiting for a treasure to drop down, never realizing the sight of the full moon and the freedom to strove the night unafraid was the real treasure all along. She chuckled. Leave it to Kurama to know an intellectual fable to make her feel better about herself. In turn she braved her dying creativity and crafted tale around a fearful yet unsatisfied cat looking for her shadow—which of course, terrified the creature upon sight. She was struggling to end it when she caught a glimpse of Kurama's eyelids dropping. Was he already asleep? He looked exhausted.

She set aside the stationary and reached for the light. Luckily it was on her side. Without disturbing him, she settled under the covers and exhaled quietly. The effects of the dark brew were fading, the familiar headache and nausea returning with increasing intensity. She tried hard to settle in comfortably, but the worsening symptoms were impossible to ignore.

Hearing a soft sigh beside her, Keiko took comfort she wasn't alone. Her mind settled into quiet contemplation as she envisioned his chest heaving smoothly with each inaudible breath, momentarily distracting her from her bodily troubles. Of course she stopped herself, shamed to be thinking about another man so blatantly. Keiko had been doing a lot of that lately. And of course she tried to clear her mind of the visions of his hair falling out of a haphazard bun in tresses of red down his back and occasionally flaring up in the wrong direction entirely. Who knew men with long hair could be attractive? Of course she told herself to feel guilty about thinking his neck—not thick and well-muscled like Yusuke's, but not slender like a woman's.

Yet his hushed breathing and presence kept her sane somehow, gave her a focus to center her attention instead of the torment rollicking through her senses. She went to sleep with his voice on replay in her mind, wondering if it was possible to compose a lullaby from someone's discrete snoring.

The next day Keiko woke up alone with a note on the table—Kurama was about something or another—and an even worse headache than before. Not even the temptation to finish her homemade fable was enough to rouse her from complete misery.

By the time he came home, Keiko was shaking under the multitude of covers with racking chills. Her teeth even chattered—so loudly she felt embarrassed. In and out of sleep she drifted—how many times did Kurama pop a thermometer in her mouth? How many times did he try to pry a sippi cup between her lips?

Finally she succumbed to a numb mist between two points in reality, unable to really call it sleep. So far beyond in the gray void, Keiko didn't hear the phone ring—twice—or the arrival of a uncharacteristically hassled Hiei.

* * *

"The detective remains stationary—he refuses to step outside his fortified walls out of the fear someone will encroach on his territory."

"Invasion is a very real threat, Hiei. Left unguarded, Raizen's palace could very well be sacked—and you know as well as anyone the consequences."

"Oh, yes. A wrinkle in the detective's panties."

Kurama sighed.

"Don't sneer at politics. This triennial rotation of rulers is a precarious situation at best—there is a majority of dissenters—and they are far from quiet. We've been lucky to have a good portion of the S-Class supporting the decision to quell involvement—"

"You talk a big game, but you're just as angry as I am. Don't pretend to hide it. It's written all over your face," Hiei re-crossed his ankles on the desk, leaning back at a dangerous angle for anyone else. He tipped his nose at the bundle of shaking covers, ignoring his companion's pointed look of exasperation.

"I heard you've been shacked up with the girl. How unfortunate."

"Hardly. She's pleasant company at worst."

Hiei chuckled knowingly, reminding Kurama just how long it's been since he heard such a sinister sound.

"For someone so smart, you're awfully dense." Hiei agilely righted himself and stood, seeming to find interest in the sun dipping in and out of sight behind the clouds. It had been a while since his last trip to the human realm, Hiei thought casually. He began to speak again, almost without pause.

"You asked for a report on human activity in the area—I've got nothing for you other than a poorly veiled attempt to hide a mishap at a nearby power plant." Hiei pulled a folder from someplace under his cloak, tossing it carelessly into the other demon's lap without letting his eyes leave the sky outside. He blinked as he waited for a response, realizing the silence meeting his intel was too heavy to be contemplation. Hiei stole a glance to his right, taken aback by the sight of Kurama's frozen expression of shock and realization, the folder untouched and unbalanced on his thigh.

It was moments before Kurama finally spoke, his lips white as he struggled to find the words.

"Oh, god…"

Kurama's distress was palpable—even Hiei didn't have the heart to goad him for making a mistake of some sort. However, he couldn't quite shake his curiosity. It wasn't often the man screwed up. He licked his lips like a predatory animal.

"You look like your cat got into rat poison."

Kurama didn't respond, instead focusing his stricken gaze on the trembling heap on the bed, his retort small and lacking.

"Not so far from the truth, I'm afraid."

Hiei quirked an eyebrow, waiting for more.

"Radiation poisoning. Keiko has radiation poisoning. Severely," he almost whispered, knowing full well Hiei could hear him. Though Hiei had no attachment to the human woman, he could almost sympathize with the obvious pain his glaring oversight him. He of all people knew how hard a fall from overconfidence could be.

"I might not be the authority on human frailty, but it seems obvious you should move her."

Kurama leaned over his knees to place his head in his hands, his nonverbal response enough to get his point across.

"The houses—the roaches—the shrubbery—the electronics—it's so _obvious_. Of course her condition would deteriorate. Of course I would be unaffected."

He remained motionless, still as a stone on the moon. Hiei resisted the urge to shift his weight to one leg—that would be _fidgeting_.

"So you had a miss. Shouldn't you be more concerned about _fixing_ her?"

Kurama chortled, rivaling his companion's for its dark quality. His voice took on a threatening tone.

"One cannot simply "_fix_" the damage done by prolonged exposure to—"

Something shot across Kurama's eyes, freezing him mid-thought. Hiei felt a rare headache coming on—the man's mood changes were difficult to follow. He couldn't fathom what his mind looked like right now. He had no desire to exploit his telepathy for once.

"Except…"

Hiei grew tired of the man's vague half-finished sentences.

"Except what? Unicorn piss?"

"Not exactly," he answered, confidence seeping back into his cadence, "nothing could reverse neural damage—except demon blood. Mine in particular—I've already shown resistance to radiation—and I can recall instances in the past an infusion in humans can result in profound results…"

He was already on his feet, staring at Hiei with renewed intent.

"Hiei, how squeamish are you?"

* * *

Rare author's note: this was written before the nuclear disaster in Japan. I don't know why I wanted to add that. Well, that and those are real symptoms of radiation poisoning, and despite the myths, cockroaches aren't all that badass when it comes to surviving radiation. I just went with it because it's popular.


	4. Chapter 4

A tree, she decided. She was looking at a tree. A tall, pungent cedar with layers and layers of branches climbing the trunk to a rounded point at the top. It was beautiful—a striking sight, those lush glossy green limbs against an otherwise dull gray background. But it _was_ a cedar tree. Instinctively she backed up, knowing she was one of the unfortunate affected negatively by the pollen, most potent at the peak of summer. To her dismay, the tree seemed to sense her withdraw, gently pulsating a wave of foggy yellow.

Keiko turned and prepared to bolt, but immediately behind her was another perfect tree, also emitting a topaz haze. She pinched her nose and twirled around, panicking as trees clouded the horizon, the colorless sky disappearing as the dust reaching for the zenith gained solidarity. Trapped, she collapsed to her knees and clutched at the ground, horrified to see it give way to a thick, warm mud that rose and ebbed like a rising tide. White flashes shot across her vision as more of the opaque liquid came in contact with her skin, painless but nonetheless jarring. Even as the waves of heat kept her confined, she convulsed and shook, fear gripping her as she lost control of her senses.

Once as a child, she stuck a hairpin in the toaster trying to extract a misplaced crayon, effectively receiving a lasting impression of electricity. It was the only thing she could think to compare to the blinding surges of energy ransacking every nerve.

Despite everything, Keiko felt a bizarre sensation between relief and apathy coming on as her silent electrocution droned on as she grew desensitized. The trees continued to dispense their poison, but she could feel the sluggish earth wanting to devour the cedars just as much as it wanted to consume her with its electric fire. Somehow, she knew—Keiko could sense the growing black mud was on her side against her enemies, for no other reason than it strangely reminded her of Kurama.

* * *

Part TWO

* * *

Keiko was first aware of her breathing—steady and sure, unlabored and easy. She hadn't realized she was having difficulty until inhaling didn't bring embers down her throat. A cool, conforming material was draped across her forehead, she noted, relishing in the sensation. The rest of her body felt almost weightless—Keiko was elated to find her queasiness was gone for good.

Her ears prickled when she heard a dramatic sigh somewhere near, a sound familiar and strange. Trying her luck, she slowly peered through squinted lids, confused to see an alien ceiling above her. She turned her head, observing the room and wondered vaguely if, perhaps, the room re-arranged itself in response to her revolutionary recovery. Blinking, she thought she recognized her suit jacket strewn atop a heavy wooden dresser.

A rustling wrapper caught her attention.

Kurama sat across the room, in his hands a half-opened granola bar. He noticeably jerked in his chair when her eyes met his, forgetting his snack in favor of quickly re-appearing by her side with a broad smile on his face.

"How are you feeling? Any pain? Dizziness?"

She shook her head, wondering how long this wonderful feeling of _nothingness_ would last.

"Can you try speaking for me?"

Keiko swallowed. Sensing her hesitation, he lowered his voice to that dangerous purr she was _sure_ he used only when he wanted to accomplish something with the female variety.

"Anything will do. Just to see if there is any pain."

Taking a breath to steady herself, she braved a vowel sound. It was clear she had no trouble—so she vocalized more, softly but confidently breezing through the alphabet. She smiled, feeling accomplished.

"Hungry?" He asked, seeming satisfied. Keiko cleared her throat for good measure.

"Very."

"So this is the demon world?"

"Yes. I'm surprised you knew."

"I sort of heard you talking when I was asleep—you said something to someone about coming here."

She watched him as she took another savage bite of her bread, crisp on the outside and giving on the inside. The soup was equally mouthwatering. It was hard to keep a decent flow of intelligent words coming from her mouth with she had such a feast in her lap.

"Did you? Interesting. What…else can you recall?"

Keiko shrugged. Remembering dreams was not her specialty.

"It sounded like you were talking to yourself."

Kurama grunted, a silent question answered. He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes suddenly glazed over in something like sorrow. Keiko stopped him in a rare display of ill-manners.

"Thank you—for whatever you did, you know, with the blood thing... I feel much better now."

He nodded, having explained everything from the nuclear waste tainting the fifty mile radius in which they camped out on to the dangerous and completely experimental transfusion. He left out Hiei's brief but important appearance.

"I am truly sorry—"

"You've apologized thirty times already—and I _told_ you, it's really ok! How were you suppose to know? Honestly, you act like you planned on hitching a tent next to Chernobyl," Keiko laughed, feeling unusually giddy. Some part of her felt like it should care she almost died for a second time—possibly a third—in less than a week, but that part didn't matter so much at the moment. The man sighed notably.

"You are far too forgiving for your own good. I wondered how Yusuke could keep you around."

Kurama covered his mouth, appearing to regret his comment. If it was supposed to be offensive, Keiko didn't notice. She shrugged and gestured to the window. Yusuke was not a topic she felt like discussing, not when it felt almost like a sin to even think about him. It was on the back of her mind, a small concern at first but growing into a problem. Keiko knew she was growing attached to Kurama, and thinking about Yusuke...

Well, it made her think about what that might mean.

"Can I go outside?"

The sky was green. A vivid and bright _lime_ green. Who wouldn't want to investigate? It was like she had an impulsive urge to explore—or like she felt a tangible tugging on her gut, pulling at her even as she sit still.

"You…wish to go outside?" Kurama asked, studying her with a worried furrow. He sat his bowl down and regarded her with a leveling stare.

"Keiko, you do realize there are creatures out there with the capacity to do ten times more damage than the demon that attacked the train—and I am not totally sure what an extended outing would do—"

"Please?"

She stared at him over the table, mesmerized by the minute changes in his expression. She was sure he was going for a straight face, but Keiko could delicate muscle twitching.

"May I ask why?"

"Well, I'm curious. Besides, you said yourself it would be safer here than in the living world."

Kurama scowled, regretful he let slip she was being hunted.

"Safer in the sense no one knows where you are, which can quickly change if you keep insisting to venture out into the enemy's backyard," he warned to no avail. Keiko merely grinned.

"_Pretty_ please? I just want to see. Once is all I ask."

Sighing, he conceded.

"Alright—"

Before he could finish his reluctant acknowledgement, she was out of her chair and standing by the door, beaming like she won a cruise. Kurama slid his chair back and slowly stood up, taking his time to the door to express his hesitation. It went unnoticed.

He glanced at her attire, seeming content with her sturdy mismatched boots and floral rain jacket. Keiko kept her best poker face—her choice in garb wasn't exactly coincidence. Releasing yet another defeated sigh, he opened the door and led the way.

* * *

"Cratos impansisivious."

"Cratos… in…pan…sah… sah what?"

"Impansi_sivious_. It's common name is the creeping dragon."

"Oh… what does it do?"

Kurama rose his eyebrow.

"Keiko, not everything in the demon realm _does_ something. It is merely known for being a crawling vine with distinctive flowers."

Nonplused, she squatted diligently in front of the rock, peering at the weed like an eager second grader with a biology project. She wagged a finger in front of the lone pink bud nestled amongst the nettled leaves, her eyes popped wide when it followed her motions.

"Hey, look! I think it likes me…"

"No doubt following your warmth… I neglected to mention it's a carnivorous plant."

Kurama chucked as Keiko cracked her wrist getting her hand away from the suddenly unfriendly shoot.

"I'm only joking," he grinned, his eyes laughing as she scowled at him.

"And this one?"

"Poisonous."

"What about this one? It looks like a cherry…,"

"That one? …less than a drop will send you into anaphylactic shock."

"Is that part of a poem?"

"Pardon?"

Keiko giggled, waving her hand. She continued to peruse the wild garden of seemingly inedible fruit. It seemed the most mundane were the most dangerous of all—she decided to go with one of the more monstrous looking berries.

"How about the funny yellow one with silver stripes and black thorns?"

He leaned closer to see, his eyes narrow in the dim light.

"That one should be alright."

She blinked. She was only half serious.

"You're kidding."

Determined to prove his point, Kurama plucked the berry in question and gently rubbed it back and forth between his fingers to dislodge the light fuzz coating, smiling as he plopped it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, contemplating something.

"Although I suspect it is an excellent source of iron, the taste is enough to deter most—"

Before he could finish, Keiko already was half chewing, half choking on her own _galango_ berry, her face contorted in misery. She didn't have to guess what the rest of Kurama's expert diagnosis spelled. It tasted horrible.

* * *

"And—here!"

Keiko threw her weight into her lunge, hoping it was enough to send her high enough into Kurama's range. She held her breath as she waited, relieved when she felt her forearm securely locked in his grasp. Looking down, she felt the sheer pleasure of having come so far. It was a pretty steep climb.

"I am going to pull you up, are you ready?"

Keiko nodded, gazing up again and ready for instruction. Kurama heaved once and she was over the last ledge, panting with the exertion. Kurama however, seemed no worse for wear. She squinted at him. He _must_ work out or something—and used the best anti-frizz products money could buy.

Nonplused, her companion pointed to something over her shoulder, casually noting the appearance of something with the word 'feral' in it.

"Are you sure you do not wish to return? It's been quite some time since we left."

Keiko shook her head, gazing out over the cliff edge with a meditative focus in her eyes, her chin propped on her knees as she leaned against a rock face coated in greenery. The sun started to set, leaving behind a trail of lavender and honey orange as the rest of the sky started to darken into a hunter green. She took a deep breath as she watched the tri-colored moon became visible over the horizon, the third one to appear since they settled to watch the changing sky. Kurama's gaze followed hers, smiling knowingly.

"They're called the Three Lovers."

"What?"

"The moons. There is an old story about them, if you would like to hear it."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving the horizon. Shifting his position, Kurama politely cleared his throat and began.

"Most human fairy tales start with 'once upon a time,' but this one starts a little differently," he paused for dramatic effect, taking time to finish repositioning his legs.

"It was and yet never was—it ended but is never-ending. It began with two friends—the moon in the middle and the moon highest in the sky—who were loyal and trusting partners to one another. They are named Loran and Felix. The other—the moon closest to the horizon —is named Tatalay, after a both kind and beautiful woman who was deeply in love with Felix. If you knew their rotation pattern, you would know they only come in close range once every few weeks…"

Kurama continued, going into a detailed and vivid depiction of the adventures faced by the three travelers as they battled the sun for dominance over the heavens. Keiko had a hard time following the names and relationships of the numerous deities involved, but the three moons she would never forget. Felix and Tatalay were husband and wife, but Felix was often away; an unconsciously neglectful lover. She mourned his departure at every sunrise, never straying from her path hugging the tree line, always searching for her lost love but unable to climb any further. It wasn't long until Loran found her grieving mid-day, when his orbital took him low in the sky. He accompanied her until he found he was in love with her, leaving again for the sky at dusk even as his heart longed to stay with her.

Kurama's tone grew soft when he reached the end of the tale.

"So Tatalay continues on alone, for the most part, while the two others venture in the sky."

Keiko sighed, her heart heavy from the sudden somber silence.

"Did Tatalay know?"

Kurama blinked, his mind elsewhere.

"Pardon?"

"Did she know Loran loved her?"

"I don't know."

"Oh."

Keiko contemplated as the sun slipped beyond view, her breathing steady and rhythmic. Every lungful brought a strange energy into her body, and she wondered if Yusuke felt the same when he was here—if _this_ is why he chose this world over hers. The thought made her feel sick again. Kurama shuffled his feet from across the small clearing.

"May I…ask you something?"

"Oh, sure…" Her eyes never left the moons.

"What do you think of this place?"

"What do I…," she trailed, thinking back over the last few hours hiking through surreal brush and identifying flowers, berries, and insect life. Kurama had something to say just about everything.

"I like it."

Kurama exhaled noticeably.

"Most would find this world unnerving at best. What is it about you—," he cut off suddenly, seeming to regret opening his mouth. Keiko responded without giving him time to correct himself. She knew what he meant, but she liked the way '_you_' rolled off his tongue—even if it also came with warning bells and whistles.

"It's beautiful. What's so scary about beauty?"

He looked appalled.

"Beautiful? Keiko—we're in a particularly mild region—but there are—"

"There are dangerous things on earth," she defended, finding it hard to believe she was the one championing _his_ homeland. Kurama deflated slightly, shaking his head.

"I still cannot fathom a human woman wanting to explore a world itching to devour her. Quite literally," he nearly whispered, staring out at the impressive distance. He didn't expect a response, let alone Keiko's heartfelt reply.

"This place is a _part_ of who you are. You can't run away from it, and I like that part—," she stopped, realizing why Kurama was having trouble finishing his sentences lately.

"And Yusuke, I suppose?" He strained, his face hidden by his hair. The wind picked up, now the that the sun had departed. She had no doubt he was not talking about the demonic landscape.

A blast whipped through the trees and over the two, cold and silencing. Keiko looked up at Tatalay, and then Loran, noticing the distance was growing between them, feeling chilled even under her warm jacket.


	5. Chapter 5

Rare author's note: Normally I won't bother you fine readers, but you should know her dream IS out there, I did write it. I don't know how hardcore this place is on explicit material these days, so I played it safe. The link is on my profile page, and the password is 'Kurama,' leave out the quotation marks.

* * *

Sunlight beamed into the room and glided across the bed, eventually crawling over her eyes. With a groggy slurred tone, she flopped onto her back and grumbled about getting curtains. After a few moments of quiet breathing listening to the trills of the various bird-_like _creatures outside, she froze and reached her arms out to the empty space beside her.

Flinging the covers to the floor, Keiko sat up and gaped at herself, the bed, and the room, blushing scarlet as she remembering the intimate encounter with none other than Yoko Kurama. Half a syllable was out of her mouth when she realized her PJ's were exactly as she put them on the night before, her bra unbroken and firmly clasped in place. Her jaw dropped.

It was all a dream.

Strangely, her first reaction was disappointment, but a few seconds of self-deliberation brought her to the conclusion she should feel relieved. After all, the consequences from such a thing happening—

"You're finally awake."

Kurama stood in the doorway, his face impassive. She glowed scarlet and lowered her gaze. If he noticed her radiating blush, he didn't make mention of it, instead gesturing to the folded clothes on the table with instructions to ready for their departure. Her eyebrows shot up in shock.

"Where—?"

He suddenly jolted in place, reaching for his side like something bit him to retrieve a small black cell phone. Craning his neck to move his hair out of the way, he waved a finger at her and exited the room, murmuring in low tones.

_Where are you going_?

She sighed, falling back down into the pillows. Outside, patches of insects droned in and out like broken sirens, surreal but familiar. Closing her eyes, she could be at home, laying on the couch with the window open. The TV could be on—muted, frozen forever on the cooking channel, where she liked it—and the phone turned off, like she did on Sundays. The neighbors were out, attending church—the landlord singing from upstairs to off-beat Broadway like he sometimes does. Outside in the street was a heated game of some sort, involving the kids from the block. The heat waves were almost palpable, dancing and shimmering on her face—

A bright ringing startled Keiko out of the covers, one foot touching the ground. In a dreary haze, she recognized it on the second ring to be the landline phone set mysteriously on the desk.

She didn't give its presence much thought, more concerned about where exactly Kurama was—and how long she'd been dazing. He was usually the one who answered the phone, after all. She contemplated leaving it alone, but half-way through the fourth tone she bolted for the receiver. It could be Kurama in trouble somewhere, perhaps warning her to take refuge…

"He—hello?"

"—ass! Sit there and _shut up_! I'm on the phone—Kurama, where the hell are you? I need you here—"

"Yusuke?"

Stunned silence answered her. In the background, Keiko heard static and muted voices rising and falling in a heated discussion. With a start, she realized she could almost make out words—

"Keiko, where are you?" He asked, leveling his words carefully. She sensed hesitation in his voice—as well as suspicion. Keiko felt immensely…guilty as her mind replayed her dream. She worked for a response, quiet almost as long as he was.

"I—"

Keiko felt hot chills as a hand grazed her arm for the phone. Kurama stood beside her with his face hidden from view.

"I am taking her back to the living realm. I will contact you later."

He frostily dropped the phone into the receiver, turning away without exposing his expression, though Keiko didn't have to guess what it looked like. As guilt-ridden as she was for having such an explicit dream involving his demon half, she didn't even feel frosted for his brusque attitude. Instead, she made for the clothes and headed to the makeshift bathroom.

* * *

The sight of home wasn't nearly as relieving as it should have been.

Keiko groaned, raking a hand through her greasy locks as she dug for her keys in her coat pockets, stopping in mute panic. Of course her keys were on the bottom of a lake somewhere. And of course Kurama was long gone after dropping her off in front of the apartment complex in his sleek little black car. How _he_ could miss something so major almost made her feel better that she had. Or perhaps he didn't care.

Moaning, she let her head fall against her door—which immediately gave away with a low-pitched creak. Keiko caught herself in the doorframe, mute shock coursing through her. After all this time, she _left the door open_. But she was certain she—

Keiko froze when her eyes caught a dirty path of footsteps trailing to and from the entrance to the kitchen and bedroom, knowing damn well the cockroaches—as far as she knew—didn't wear size thirteen shoes or know how to unlock doors. She closed her gapping mouth and peered around the door frame, listening closely for intruders. Cautiously, she stepped inside, feeling more like the burglar than she did the victim as she crept to the kitchen.

Her quiet shuffling stopped abruptly when she turned the corner, her wide brown eyes tearing as she surveyed the damage.

* * *

"No, mom, I'm fine—it's just a little water damage—nothing a dehumidifier won't fix—ah, no, I don't need help—"

She twirled the cord around her finger, bending her knuckle until the pressure turned it white and released it absent mindedly. Keiko sighed, blowing her bangs into the air. She noted this passively, thinking it was probably time for another haircut.

"I'm manage somehow—"

Percussive pounding interrupted her sentence. Suddenly frightened, Keiko ended her phone call with a polite goodbye and edged her way to the hallway, her heart thudding faster as the visitor rapped the wood again as she got closer. Deep down, she knew she was being ridiculous—if it was a hardened criminal or—god forbid—a demon at her door, they would hardly take the time to _knock_.

She paused when she reached it, biting her lip. Why didn't the door have a peep hole?!

Broken from her frozen staring by another round of knocking, Keiko shuffled her feet and groaned uneasily. Finally she exhaled and reached for the doorknob just as the door opened of its own accord and came to a jarring halt as the chain stopped it. She stumbled backwards and crossed herself, half a swear word coming out of her mouth when she spotted familiar emerald eyes bearing down into her own.

"Keiko, you must let me in," he stated, skipping his normal pleasantries. She blinked at him, dumbfounded, her heart suddenly at her toes. He sighed in impatience and gestured to the gleaming chain. Her keys were in his hand.

"Undo the lock. Hurry."

She blindly followed his orders, stepping back to give him room to enter. He breezed past her into the kitchen, something bulky and blue tucked under one arm. He was wearing gray slacks and a navy button down shirt, his suit jacket slung haphazardly over his arm. Keiko was trying to decide if his grays mismatched or if her eyes needed checked when he whirled around to face her, his scowl dark enough to block out the sun.

"What happened here?"

"Oh, uh—"

Kurama uncharacteristically shook his head and dismissed her lacking response, instead pivoting back around to look himself after dropping his bundle on her countertop. It was a duffle bag. Her familiar key ring went hissing across the granite before it came to a stop near her stove.

He muttered to himself as he stepped carefully around her small house, frowning as he cataloged every broken picture and scattered drawer. Keiko bit her lip, feeling embarrassed. Even after a few hours of cleaning, it still looked like an elephant with two left feet and spurs on went dancing through her apartment. Maybe he thought she went crazy and did it herself, she thought ruefully. She eyed the blue bag in front of her.

"Um—"

"—should have guessed something like this would happen, no doubt they have…"

"Kurama? Is everything alright?"

He stopped suddenly, completely still for a moment before rounding back on her in a brilliant blaze.

"How can you ask such a thing?! Of _course everything is not alright_—!"

His face fell, the anger strewn across his features fading fast as he saw her pallid face and watering eyes. Kurama slowly exhaled and dropped his face to his hand, looking exhausted as he slumped against the wall. He took in a deep breath and let his open hand fall to his side, his expression apologetic and self-chastising as he gazed at the woman in front of him for a long minute.

"Keiko. I am not upset with you. I am merely—_frustrated_—," he bit, looking off at something in her wall. Though he could be admiring her three-dollar replica print of Manet's _A Bar at the Folies-Bergère_, she gathered he was far within himself.

Feeling a bit lost, she cleared her throat and moved past him, trying to calm her pulse by regaining a sense of normalcy.

"Would you like a drink? I went to the store last night…"

She kept her back to him, pulling two glasses from the cupboard. Keiko heard him heave a sigh again, wondering if she was making matters worse.

"Kei—"

"I already talked to the police—they already know me pretty well," she chuckled, closing the cabinet door. Just as she reached for the fridge, she found her wrist locked in a tight grasp. Kurama twirled her around to face him, his eyes dancing with more emotions than she thought humanly possible. Then again, he wasn't entirely human.

"Why didn't you call me?"

Guilt. Why was she feeling guilt? She should feel guilty about not calling Yusuke! About—about having a _sex_ dream about him!

"I…"

He waited.

Keiko swallowed, unsure what to say. Normally, Yusuke would have interrupted her by now, thankfully relieving her of the burden of explaining herself as he unloaded a tirade long enough to cool down and forget the original offence completely. It was almost shocking to discover she banked on that, standing open-mouthed and so _stupid_ in front of the face of logic. Kurama wasn't going to yell at her. He was going to _reason_ with her.

Which was so much worse.

"I don't know," she finally breathed, looking down. It was the truth—she really didn't. Well, maybe she did, but…

"This is my fault," he muttered, releasing her to turn away again, his fingers locked in his hair.

Keiko stood dumbstruck. Yusuke rarely admitted—

Her thoughts came to a standstill, panic welling in her chest as she realized _she was comparing _Kuramato_ Yusuke_. Like they were _dating_.

Taking in a shaky breath, she hid her stricken face with a cheery grin and stumbled backwards for the forgotten cups.

"No, I was just being…silly, silly is all. I didn't want you to worr—well, I guess I didn't want to miss my favorite show," she chattered, feeling her head get lighter and lighter as oxygen and general sense evaporated with each second. She didn't even have the capacity to be aghast she used such a ridiculous excuse. Not even _Yusuke _would—

* * *

She stared at her ceiling fan for three minutes after opening her eyes before she could recognize it. Her head felt heavy, like the back of her skull was coated with metal. Licking her lips was difficult—her mouth was absolutely arid.

For the moment, she was focused on getting upright forth most and then something to quench her thirst, forgetting entirely Kurama's unexpected entrance, so the sight of him on all four examining her busted stove with a rag tied over his face was most shocking.

Hearing her startled scuffle, he turned his head and removed his improvised mask, smiling good-naturedly at her. His mood changes could turn faster cartwheels than a gymnast.

"Oh, good, I was going to wake you soon if you did not stir on your own. It's very near dark time."

Keiko grasped at the wall, her mind whirling. Of all the things to question, all she could think was—_who on earth said "dark time?"_

"Take a seat. I have some matters to discuss with you."

Figuring her legs were more unsteady than she would have liked, she took his suggestion, bending down for the ground and the sureness of the cold wall at her back.

They both avoided the earlier conversation. Keiko, because it would probably send her back into a fainting spell, and Kurama because he had to tell her about the end of the world.

She wasn't sure why it was such a shock to hear that Yusuke was the lord over all demons. Surely, he said so himself, on many occasions—but she generally shook it off. It _was _Yusuke, after all. She wouldn't doubt he had some position or rank, but certainly never really considered him an anointed king. But hearing it come from Kurama's mouth—as well as a good deal more, about demon politics and demon strife and demon economics, with Yusuke at the center of all that—it was almost overwhelming.

The fact that there was an entire world—much more vast than hers—teeming with monstrous creatures with every capability of parading through the streets like moving nightmares was a bit hard to swallow, too. She always just thought of it as another country—but of course that changed when she got to see it firsthand. Even when she was _there_, she didn't feel quite as frightened as she did now. After all, that was there and this was here, her world—the two didn't coincide.

It was most unsettling news, indeed, to hear Kurama say that they in fact did. That they always had. That the 'ka-ka' something that kept the really bad ones from coming over was gone—for a few years, since Yusuke disappeared for those few years back after middle school. She didn't understand—didn't _want_ to understand—all the things he told her about what exactly kept the world from ending overnight, but she did get that there was some sort of unspoken rule about not causing chaos in the living realm.

The train incident was an isolated event, Kurama explained. An event that might soon be very common, if Yusuke didn't settle the growing revolt.

Just the thought of seeing something like that again put breakfast back in Keiko's throat.

He had stopped his lecture there, smiling and assuring her that everyone would get taken care of—that Yusuke and the others were on it and doing everything in their power to stop such a thing from happening. She had only one question.

"What—what about—_me_?"

She felt small and unsure, her place in the world suddenly in jeopardy. Keiko clenched her old shirt with white fingers in her lap, hoping that the fact she was trembling wasn't noticeable. Kurama smiled at her, as if she asked something that was obvious.

"I would never let anything happen to you. Haven't I said that much before?"

Keiko scrunched her eyebrows together, trying to remember, but the rag that Kurama flung at her face disrupted her thoughts.

"I've managed to clear most of the damage, but I believe the living room needs attention."

She simply nodded, transferring her death grip on her hem to the ratty cloth.

It took them the rest of the dying afternoon to put her apartment back in order, but Keiko knew it would have taken her much longer had she done it by herself. She was thankful for the help, and told him so at least twice every hour.

Numbly, she wondered if it even mattered if they cleaned it up, or if anything mattered anymore. It was just something to _do_.

When Kurama transferred from his casual business attire to a loose-fitting oriental outfit, she figured he was planning on sticking around, gauging by the contents of the now open duffle bag resting beside the couch. Perhaps orders from Yusuke, she thought grimly, wondering if perhaps Kurama would rather be in his own home instead of _babysitting_ her in hers. She wasn't sure how to approach the topic.

Instead, she invited him to go grocery shopping. After all, there wasn't nearly enough food in the house for two people, since she only went to the convenience store the night before. The normalcy of the rather dull after noon culminating in a routine errand to The Food Lion helped her forget that the world was on the brink of destruction.

* * *

Keiko felt like she was in a movie, sitting on the beach in a lounge chair with a cocktail in one hand, watching the asteroid hit the horizon.

"Keiko, do you prefer whole or skim milk?"

"Oh—um, whole...,"

He nodded and moved up the isle as he dropped the carton in the cart, skimming the rest of the list. She numbly followed, pushing the rickety cart forward. Her thoughts wandered to and from the different beaches in driving distance.

"Oh, look what went on sale."

"Eh? Oh, that'll be good with dinner."

It had been too long since she'd been to the beach. It was worth shaving her bikini line and braving her two piece. If she was going to die in the throes of a raging tsunami, she wasn't going to do it in her conservative brown-and-white bathing dress. The vague memory of buying it with her mother made her smile. Perhaps she should give her another call when she got home…

"I have to leave you momentarily—I'm going to check the frozen food section,"

"Right, ok, I'll be here…,"

She followed his back with her dazed eyes, spotting the alcohol section just past him across another isle. Right—there was the matter of the beverage involved. It had to be something _strong_, worthy of a blockbuster movie death scene. Nothing typical of what she'd normally drink.

Just as she was perusing the multitude of dark bottles, wondering how exactly one went about drinking whisky, Kurama chuckled behind her.

"Perhaps you should start with the clear liquors first. They're easy to mix with, you see," he advised, watching her eyes spark back to life with curiosity.

"But I don't want a girly drink—I want something with balls."

Kurama tried to hold back his eyebrows, keeping his surprised laugh muffled under tight lips. He worded his response carefully, lest his amusement be too obvious.

"I can guarantee there are plenty of men who were brought to their knees by 'girly drinks.' I merely suggested it because I thought you would prefer the taste."

"Well, how do you know? I've never tried these before," she gestured with an open hand to the expensive bourbon she was eyeing.

"That's exactly why," he stated, his smile nearly ready to eat his face.

"I think I'm going to buy some," Keiko finally declared, turning back for the ominous black bottle with the naked woman straddling an alligator. It seemed like the right choice for a last drink. She could have sworn she heard choking from Kurama's general direction.

"Then at least buy some Coke, Keiko…"


End file.
